


Tainted Memory

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: 30 Days of Whump-Cherik Edition [2]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: 30 Day Whump Prompt Challenge, Boys In Love, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Don't copy to another site, Drabble, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Past Suicidal Thoughts, Short & Sweet, X-Men: First Class (2011)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 22:51:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19778092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: Erik had an intimate understanding of hunger.Day 2: Hunger





	Tainted Memory

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out more fluffy then whumpy but really who cares? Check out the first story to see the 30 day list and enjoy!

Erik had an intimate understanding of hunger.

He knew the different between being hungry and starving, a line that was embolden from a young age by choice. There had been a period where Erik had tried to starve himself, not that Shaw had noticed at the time.

It had been one of his training tactics. Shaw had thought where chocolate had failed, the cramps of his stomach trying to eat itself would induce enough pain to encourage his powers to come through. It had taken the guards a week to realize he was happy to let himself die that way. He should have known they wouldn’t let that happen. He was too valuable for that.

It hardly mattered. Erik knew now that it was a horribly inefficient and uselessly painful way to die. One of the many tortures they inflicted on his brethren. Shaw had been forced to get more creative and while food was still sparse, he was well-fed enough to perform. He hated himself for that fact a long time afterwards, seeing the other prisoners.

Now, Erik found himself aware of food at all times. He didn’t eat it, having too much self-control for that, but he’d find himself appreciating the smell and staring at with a strange mix of want and disgust. A tainted memory.

Though that seemed to be changing.

At first, Erik didn’t find anything suspicious about it.

Charles, he’d suspected, was used to a certain standard when it came to his daily life. Erik didn’t hold it against him, not directly. So, when after a long day of driving or frustratingly trying to convince mutants to join their cause, and Charles would insist they find a descent sit down restaurant, he hadn’t thought anything of it. Of course, Charles would want something a bit nicer than what could be microwaved in a motel room, Erik felt the same. Still, some days he was so exhausted that he’d rather just fall into bed and eat in the morning.

Erik didn’t consider the oddity that was the high-end food but not caring in the slightest when they ended up in a one-star restaurant. Barely even noted the way Charles would watch him eat intently, simply used to the man’s single-mindedness and honestly distracted from the foot always being rubbed against his shin.

It wasn’t until they had all ended up the mansion and Erik had literally just flung himself out of Charles’s bed and down the stairs and into the kitchen that he realized something strange was going on. The old fire alarm was blaring obnoxiously, and Charles was staring at him sleepy eyed and sheepish while smoke swirled around him and an acidic burning smell filled the air.

“Um,” Charles grimaced. “Sorry for waking you?”

Erik stared at him blankly for a solid minute before he heard the thundering sounds of the children upstairs. With a wave of his hand the alarm and oven were shut off, the pan currently on fire deposited in the ceramic sink.

Charles glanced behind Erik and just like that all the sound stopped.

“Really?”

“I felt bad about waking them,” Charles confessed.

Erik shook his head and moved closer, taking in the disaster that was the kitchen, “what were you trying to do?”

Charles ran a hand through his hair, weary and decidedly unhappy, “I was trying to cook breakfast for everyone.”

He stared at the mess again, “breakfast?”

“I did say try.”

Erik sighed and went to reach for the paper towels, “ok, so I take it you don’t know how to cook?”

Charles huffed, “I can bake something, and I figured this wouldn’t be too difficult.”

“You thought wrong,” Erik commented but he was amused.

There was something about Charles frustration that was incredibly endearing, even as disappointment began to seep around the room. Charles was staring down at the burnt spatula in his hand, refusing to meet Erik’s gaze, while his telepathy projected his misery.

With a sigh, Erik pulled the utensil from his hand and pulled him into a hug, trying not to laugh, “don’t make fun of me,” he mumbled against his chest.

Erik ran a soothing hand down his back, “I’m not. I just find it funny. Why were you trying to make breakfast when you can’t cook? I’m pretty sure the kids could have fended for themselves.”

In his arms, Charles tensed. Unease swept lightly against Erik’s mind.

He pulled back, frowning, “what?”

Charles didn’t look at him. Erik knew he could sense the suspicion brewing.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

Charles fiddled with the sleeve of his dress shirt, which Erik refused to get distracted by. Charles had some thing about the children seeing him as anything but impeccable professionalism. Erik was more then willing to wait out his silence and try desperately not to make assumptions.

“You were hungry,” he mumbled.

Erik stared at him, “what?”

Charles shook his head, bit his lip and then Erik was seeing things flash in front of his own eyes, images being pressed softly into his mind, leaving impressions behind. They were memories, fuzzy with time, of Erik as a child, starving. Followed closely behind, before Erik could feel too much about it, was them on their road trip and Erik not eating too often and being hungry and Charles carefully picking out the best restaurants in each town.

The images came faster along with an increased nervousness that was certainly all Charles’s. He could feel Charles’s worry, the echo of his hunger reflecting into him, the determination to feed him. Other emotions were buried deep beneath these and Erik had a feeling he wasn’t really supposed to see them.

But he did.

Charles didn’t want him to be hungry. Charles cared. Charles was trying to help. Charles like taking care of people, liked taking care of him. Ah, that explained the late-night tea he always made and the early morning cookies and biscuits he’d find before they left, and the kisses that had been constantly pressed to his stomach whenever they…oh.

Erik blinked rapidly as he was quite suddenly dropped back in his own head. For a moment everything was a bit disorienting but when the world found its feet again, it was to find Charles biting his lip and bright red in embarrassment.

Distantly, Erik thought he should angry. He knew Charles had gotten an eye full when he’d rescued him from ocean but that didn’t mean he wanted the reminder. It would be completely justified, except that anger didn’t come.

Instead, Erik found himself staring at Charles incredulously while his treacherous heart beat an unsteady rhythm in his chest. It was the pure affection he’d felt through the memories and the truly earnest urge to take care of him, that had blindsided Erik the most.

He wasn’t angry. He was…charmed. Ugh, what an entirely Charles thing to do.

In lieu of admitting that, however, Erik went for something a bit more demonstrative. He reached out and tugged Charles back into his arms, ignoring the surprised little huff and held him tightly.

_Thank you, I’m not mad, but no more cooking understood?_

The relief in Charles’s mind was tangible, _ok_.


End file.
